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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803102">Reflections and Restraint</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesandapricots/pseuds/acesandapricots'>acesandapricots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Self-Flagellation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:00:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesandapricots/pseuds/acesandapricots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian denies himself | Part 1: Julian Bashir reflects on those few people he’s loved and wanted (Palis, Jadzia, Leeta, Garak) as he edges himself, the denial of his release a palpable, painful reminder of all the pleasure and happiness he doesn’t deserve as an augment. Part 2: Garak has been edging Julian until finally he is allowed to come, a supernova behind his eyes and his body finally, finally at its genetically-enhanced limits. It’s a pleasure he wouldn’t have allowed himself, but Garak gives it to him - freely.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Other(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reflections and Restraint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written for the Kinktober 2020 challenge (prompt: orgasm denial).</p><p>My everlasting thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitmans_kiss/">whitmans_kiss</a> for beta reading!</p><p>Details of Garak's Cardassian anatomy taken from tinsnip's "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479">Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology</a>."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julian’s hand ran over his hardening cock, his body trembling at the contact. He needed this, he needed the pleasure, the release, the giving in to the possibilities of his own body.</p><p>He didn’t deserve it.</p><p>He slowly stroked himself, bringing his cock to full attention as it poked out of his unzipped trousers. His clothed ass pushed down onto the hard bed. Goose pimples rose on his bared chest in the cool air, his naked skin covered in angry scratches, red and puffy and necessary. A dermal regenerator sat on the table nearby, its protocols already set.</p><p>He used no lube, not even spit, the roughness of his palm providing a tantalizing, scraping friction across his over-sensitive skin. Julian focused his thoughts on Palis, on the first time they made love. He thought of the warmth of her skin, the lightness of her hair as it fell through his fingers. He could still recall the feel of hard muscle coiling under her soft arms, the sweet taste of her breasts; the overwhelming, enveloping <em>heat</em> and <em>wetness</em> and <em>pressure</em> of their joined bodies a clear, cutting memory.</p><p>Julian ran a ragged nail down his chest, this time drawing blood. His other hand continued to roughly pump his cock, the tip starting to slicken with his own pre-come.</p><p>Palis… so young, like he was too, then. So exquisite, from her bright eyes to the strength in her wretched, broken toes. Julian could remember his endurance far outpacing even her dancer’s stamina as they moved together, lost in new pleasures. It was the first time he realized a new way he was different, unique, <em>other</em>.</p><p>Palis, with her artist’s heart and athlete’s drive. She had tried to grab ahold of Julian with her kindness, to tell him he was loved, that he was cared for, that everything would be okay… that he had a family to replace his own there, with her, with her father...</p><p>Julian began pinching and squeezing, alternating the nips of pain with languid strokes of pleasure. <em>Lies</em>.</p><p>The image of Palis was soon replaced with the glowing beauty of Jadzia Dax, of her sparkling blue eyes and clear laugh and inviting curves.</p><p>Julian’s breath hitched and his hand sped up its strokes before he forced it back into a calm rhythm.</p><p>Jadzia’s spots, her voice, her long, luscious hair, dark and wavy and thick. The way his own name wrapped around her tongue. Above all, her smile, the way it filled her face with such life, opened up her expression into one of joy and light and curiosity… the way she shared the brightness of her spirit and the brilliance of her mind with everyone around her, welcoming each and every one she touched into the circle of her family.</p><p>He had loved her, he thought, when he first saw her. But no, it wasn’t love. It was never love. Just infatuation. Just boyish - <em>stroke</em> - immature - <em>pinch</em> - infatuation.</p><p>His mind moved on to new avenues of torturous thought. Bajoran ears and tongues and the delicate feel of nose ridges under his fingers; the faces and figures and laughs of every tail he’d chased as he sought escape from his rushing thoughts and lonely feelings. And there was Leeta - soft and warm and tender, funny and sweet and a real firecracker… their time together had been almost healthy, almost right, but it wasn’t, not really; it wasn’t enough, <em>he</em> wasn’t enough. The ritual separation had been a blessing, in the end.</p><p>His thoughts shifted again, to possibilities rather than memories. He pictured gray scales and black hair and slick ajans, piercing blue eyes that looked right through him, stripping his body as well as his mind with every flicker of interest.</p><p>Julian’s fingers tightened, and he groaned.</p><p>Those neck ridges… he’d read about those… read about how they flushed with blood when aroused, how the third scale was particularly sensitive to touch… how a bite in just the right place would send a lover trembling to their knees.</p><p>Julian let his fingers dance over the sensitive underside of his cock, imagining what it would feel like to have a hot red tongue <em>just there</em>, lapping and teasing and spreading his leaking pre-come up and down the long, flushed length.</p><p>Oh, what that tongue could do… lie like a sinner, swear like a Klingon, expound on philosophy and morality, politics and poetry, for days on end, every word laced with meaning and coated in secrets. What Julian wouldn’t give to have that tongue on in, in him, unraveling the mysteries of his broken mind and perfect body as he, in turn, sounded the depths of a Cardassian soul.</p><p>“<em>Elim</em>,” Julian moaned. He felt his bollocks tighten, his arousal peaking, and with just enough presence of mind he wrenched his hand away.</p><p>Julian humped at the dry air, his cock twitching and <em>aching</em>, the feel of his orgasm denied sending pricks of hot pain through his groin and chest.</p><p><em>That</em>, he knew. <em>That</em> is exactly what he deserved. Pain, not pleasure. Pain for dreaming about what can never be, what he can never have.</p><p>He looked over at the clock. It had been an hour, nearly two, his hands torturing his body as he brought himself up and down from the brink, his genetic enhancements heightening both sensation and endurance. His body trembled from the pain of release denied, his muscles tense and his skin burning.</p><p>He lay back in bed, his cock still jutting out of his open trousers, near purple with its fill of blood and glistening with pre-come.</p><p>The comm chimed.</p><p>“Doctor Bashir, you’re needed in the Infirmary.”</p><p>“I’ll be right there,” he responded, his voice tight.</p><p>It only took him moments, his motions smooth and practiced. A hastily replicated ice pack got his erection under control, the cold searing into the over-sensitive skin. The fabric of his uniform slid over his angry scrapes and scratches, the friction a reminder of how he loathed his own, enhanced body. The dermal regenerator would have to wait. Pain, he had decided long ago, was what he deserved. Not comfort. Not happiness.</p><p>Never happiness.</p><p>
  <strong>=/\=</strong>
</p><p>The dermal regenerator still lay on the table. Angry welts peppered Julian’s bare skin, his muscles taut and shaking as he strained to maintain his position.</p><p>He was spread-eagled across the bed, hands clasped tight to the bright steel of the headboard, his legs held in place by strong, gray hands. A dark head bobbed up and down over his groin, sucking in his cock in delicious, warm movements.</p><p>Julian tensed, a curl of flame building inside him.</p><p>“Elim-- I’m-- I’m--”</p><p>And Garak stopped moving, stopped touching, his face mere inches from Julian’s throbbing cock as it met nothing but cool air, a deep, empty ache reaching down, down past bodily pain into the depths of Julian’s psyche.</p><p>“Beautiful, simply beautiful.”</p><p>Julian whimpered, his hips thrusting up involuntarily, giving him no relief.</p><p>“Shall we try for one more?”</p><p>Julian couldn’t speak for a full minute. Everything hurt, everything ached with <em>need</em> and <em>want</em> and <em>more</em> and <em>less</em> and <em>oh Prophets, more</em>. Finally, he gasped,</p><p>“Elim, please, I--” He shuddered. “I can’t… I can’t take any more. Please.”</p><p>Garak smiled, a languid, satisfied leer. In one swift motion he enveloped Julian’s cock once again, teasing the sensitive flesh with his tongue and sucking, <em>hard</em>.</p><p>And Julian came suddenly, finally, with a roar, a supernova bursting into life behind his eyes and his entire body shaking, shuddering, his nerves on fire and his spine a fucking firework.</p><p>When he came down from his high, Garak was there, massaging his legs and gazing at his long, limp body with pride. Julian thought he could see something else moving behind those blue eyes - a deeper emotion, something protective, something that looked very nearly like affection. </p><p>His thoughts slurred together, the deliciously rare sensation of fatigue settling in. “Come here,” he muttered, and Garak looked up at him with another smile. Cat-like, Garak crawled up the bed to rest beside Julian. He gently wrapped Julian in an oversize blanket before lying down and slowly, carefully, extending one arm to drape over a wool-covered hip, laying claim to his beautiful prize.</p><p>“I don’t deserve you,” Julian mumbled as he drifted off, cocooned in warmth, his body finally wrung out and exhausted.</p><p>“Yes, you do, my dear doctor. In fact, you deserve the world,” was Garak’s soft response. But Julian didn’t hear it. He was already asleep.</p>
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